The Next Step

By: Brian Holliday
(© 2009 by the author)
Editor: Rockhunter

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

It was Saturday morning and I was enjoying a cup of fairly decent coffee at the counter of a small restaurant, while contemplating a two-sided, plastic coated menu of standard breakfast items, much like I’d contemplated in a thousand other restaurants. I would make up my mind soon, but there was no reason to hurry.

I leaned my head on one palm and pounded it gently from time to time, hoping to knock out a few of the cobwebs left from my last life, and maybe make room for some new ones. The city of brotherly love seemed a good place to start over.

The bell on the door dinged and a man walked in, looking around, a little confused, maybe. There were only tables left, except for a single stool at the counter, next to me. It didn’t take him long to decide on that. My guess was that, like me, he didn’t want to sit alone.

I glanced over casually as he seated himself; he looked my way and nodded. He wasn’t bad looking - fresh shaven face and short blonde hair, nice square hands - that was about all I could tell with him leaving on his topcoat and hat. It was blustery outside, and not all that warm inside. I still had my coat on too, though the coffee was beginning to thaw me out. There is never anywhere to hang your stuff in those places, at least where you won’t worry that someone will walk out with it before you notice.

The pink uniformed waitress smiled tiredly as she turned over his coffee cup and filled it, giving mine a warm-up too. “You decided yet, Hon?” she asked me.

“Almost,” I replied. “I’m between the ham and eggs and the pancakes.”

“Both good,” she said, walking away to take other orders.

I passed the cream pitcher to my new neighbor and he said a short ‘thanks’. I figured the world was weighing heavily on him that morning. I silently sympathized.

The door bell dinged again at the exit of a plump blonde in a print dress and high heels under her wool coat. She grabbed for her little hat as she fought a gust of wind and then disappeared briskly around the corner.

“You see her?” My neighbor gestured after the woman with his chin. “I used to date that one… until she broke up with me.” He shook his head. “Bitch,” he added, quietly enough that I supposed he didn’t expect to be heard.

“Pretty woman.” I commented mildly.

He turned his head, seeming surprised to notice that someone was actually there and paying attention, then nodded. “Yeah – they’re all pretty, until you get to know them… or they get to know you.”

“I suppose.” I replied, noncommittally. My experience, though probably similar, was not quite the same, so I didn’t feel qualified to agree completely.

He reached in an outer coat pocket, unrolled a newspaper and flattened it on the counter. After a few moments’ study, he commented, “Don’t know why I bother reading these things. Nothing but bad news, wherever you look. See that?” He pointed to the front page. “The U.S.S.R. says they have the atomic bomb now.” He sighed. “They’ll probably blow us all up tomorrow. What’s the use?”

I shook my head. I seldom worried about world problems, always seeming to have enough of my own to keep me busy. The U.S. had made it through the first half of the twentieth century; most likely it would make it through the rest. “Why not have some breakfast?” I suggested. “Let the world worry about itself for a while.”

“No, no,” he said, still looking at the paper - the sports page this time. “Coffee is all I have time for.”

“You work Saturdays?” I asked, thinking that pancakes were probably the best way to go this morning. The five-day work week was pretty usual in these modern, enlightened days, but there were always exceptions.

He sighed. “No, I just thought I’d go in, try to get a little ahead of the game, you know?” He really looked at me for the first time. I looked back and he held out a hand, “I’m Edwin Meyer, by the way.”

I shook it, casually. “Sam Smith.”

“What are you having for breakfast this morning, Mr. Smith?” He peered over at the menu I was studying.

“I’m torn between the pancakes and the ham and eggs. The pancakes were winning, but now I don’t know… and it’s Sam, OK?”

“Well, call me Edwin, then.” He pointed to a ‘specials’ column that I hadn’t noticed. “Says there you can get ham and eggs and two pancakes.” He smiled, and it changed his face from ordinary to handsome.

“Well, Ed, you’ve made my decision a lot easier, thanks.” I smiled, looking up to catch the waitress’ attention.

“That sounds pretty good,” he said, thoughtfully.

“Why don’t you join me, my treat?” I offered.

His face lit up. “I believe I will! Work will wait ‘til Monday morning, won’t it? Why not?” The waitress, Pam, by her name tag, chose that moment to return to us.

“You gentlemen made up your minds?” she asked, pad and pencil at the ready.

“Two of those,” Ed said, decisively, blunt forefinger stabbing the pancake special. We both ordered our eggs sunny side up.

The food arrived fast, and was better than average… or maybe I was just hungry. Pam kept the hot coffee coming. Ed seemed in a better mood with the food going into him, so I figured maybe it was safe to ask what he’d been upset about. Tact isn’t always my best thing, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I suppose it was thinking about going to work on Saturday – and then seeing her, of course. Her name’s Peggy, but she’d rather be called Margaret. She’s got real delusions about herself – wants to marry a rich man and move up in the world. Probably why she dumped me.” He sliced a piece of ham with unnecessary vigor.

“You got to know her well?” I pushed, curious.

He snorted, “Well enough! That’s another thing she didn’t like about me, and men in general I guess. ‘Men and their needs,’ she used to say, ‘I just don’t understand them.’ Women! You know how it is.”

“I suppose I do.” I temporized. I was perfectly willing to agree that men had needs, but wasn’t all that up on women’s opinions concerning them. “I take it you weren’t intimate with her, then.”

“Oh, we were intimate, all right.” He lowered his voice, looking around furtively. Elvis Presley and his “Hound Dog” were booming out of the juke box and no one else seemed to have heard. “She seemed to like it well enough until she found out I wasn’t working on my first million. Then it wasn’t ‘fun’ anymore. Wasn’t long before she dropped me completely.”

He thoughtfully mopped up some egg yolk with a slice of pancake. “I suppose it’s just as well. She would have wanted marriage, and I don’t want to get tied down to a wife and kids.” He sighed. “But a man gets lonely, late at night, you know?”

Yeah, now that was something I could agree with wholeheartedly.

“What about you, you seeing anyone?” he asked, looking up.

I decided to answer with the truth. “My lover died, just a few months back.”

“Lover,” he repeated. “You weren’t married then?”

I shook my head. “Couldn’t,” I answered curtly.

“Oh.” He nodded sympathetically. “She was already married. That’s tough. I’ve been with a few married women, myself. The sex is usually better because at least they know what they want, but sooner or later things just seem to go bad. Or the husband finds out.” He smiled ruefully and looked over. “Sorry she died, though.”

“Thanks,” I said, going back to my food.

Thinking about my situation seemed to be taking his mind off his own troubles, and I wasn’t about to spoil things by correcting any of his assumptions. Ken’s death hadn’t been much of a surprise. He was almost 84 and had had a bad heart for years. But I still missed him.

“What are your plans for the day?” he inquired, with interest, I thought.

“Oh, nothing much. Maybe I’ll take a walk, look around the city a little. I only got into town yesterday. Guess I’ll be out looking for a job come Monday.”

“Really? Do you have a car?”

I shook my head. “Don’t drive.”

“Well, that can be a handicap in Philadelphia. You’ll have to find something close to a bus line or near your apartment.”

“Don’t have an apartment yet, either,” I shared. “Maybe that’s the first thing I should look into.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “Hotels can be quite expensive.”

I shook my head. “Not a hotel, just the ‘Y’, right down the street.”

“Really! I’ve never stayed at one, what’s it like?”

“Oh, you know, small room, bathroom down the hall. Clean, though.” Plain living didn’t bother me. Bare minimum these days would have been considered luxury, only a few years back.

“Doesn’t sound very nice,” he doubted. I didn’t say anything, concentrating on the last of my breakfast.

“Say,” he said suddenly. “I have a spare room. I meant it to be my office, but I don’t need one yet. Maybe you’d like to stay with me?” He had cheered up considerably from when he’d first walked in. I figured he must be lonely to be inviting a stranger to move in with him.

“We could share the rent,” he went on. “It would save us both money.”

Ed looked at me, face shining as though he’d just invented penicillin.

“Well,” I began, “I’m sure it’s nicer than the ‘Y’, but…”

“Of course, you want to see the place before you make up your mind. Why don’t we walk over and pick up your things and then we can go back to my apartment. At least you can spend the night and decide for sure tomorrow.”

I felt like I’d been caught in a sudden tornado but, looking at Ed’s happy face, I didn’t mind. “Sounds good to me, if you’re sure…” I put down three ones and a fifty-cent piece next to the check. Pam gave a little wave as we went out, the bell jangling twice as the door opened and closed behind us. I’ve always been a big tipper when I’ve got it. Having waited tables yourself will do that to you.

It was still windy, but the spring sun had conquered the clouds for the moment and things were looking brighter all around.

The man behind the desk at the ‘Y’ assured me that there was no line of men waiting for my room and that I could get it back tomorrow, if I wanted. I thanked him and shouldered my duffel while Ed insisted on carrying my suitcase.

“We should probably take these back to my place and then we can go for that walk. Tonight we’ll go out for dinner – my treat.” He smiled.

“I’ve got a better idea.” I suggested. “Why don’t we pick up some groceries and eat in?” Breakfast had been good, but you get tired of restaurant food, after a while. A home cooked meal sounded good to me.

Ed looked doubtful. “I don’t cook much. Breakfast cereal is about my speed.” He smiled shyly.

“Well, I tell you what,” I offered. “You point us toward the market and pick out what you want, and I’ll have a try at fixing our dinner. How does that sound?”

His face lit up again. He had dimples.

“You can cook? Wonderful! The market isn’t far, let’s go!”

We ended up getting a lot of ‘basics’ as well as stuff for dinner. Ed said he really had nothing at home but Wheaties, milk, and maybe some catsup. Between the two of us, we juggled my luggage and our purchases up the stairs to Ed’s second floor apartment without much trouble. I wasn’t very good at judging, but I’d decided he looked about the same age I did, maybe 25, and he was obviously in good shape.

The apartment was surprisingly pleasant – four big rooms and plenty of windows, looking out over a little park on one side. The furniture wasn’t stylish, but it was comfortable. The large kitchen looked a lot better with some food in the cabinets and refrigerator.

We’d taken off our coats at last, in the welcome indoor warmth, and I stole the occasional admiring glance at Ed’s shoulders and backside as he put things away. I would have loved to take a better look at his front, but thought that might be too obvious. I did think a generic comment might be OK, one buddy to another.

“You look like maybe you work out a little.”

He turned around and smiled, unconsciously flexing a bicep. “Does it really show?” Then he frowned. “Peggy never mentioned it.”

“Yeah, of course it shows. Well, not so much with clothes on, but I can still tell, some.”

He walked over. “Feel that.” He flexed his arm in a classic, elbow bent pose. Dutifully, I pinched the muscles of his upper arm through the white cotton of his shirt.

“Wow!” I said, and it wasn’t much of an exaggeration. I figured he really must work out, and lift too, at least three times a week.

“Well,” he said modestly, “I was a scrawny kid. I made up my mind then that I wouldn’t stay that way forever.”

“Whatever you’re doing,” I said admiringly, “its working.”

He rolled his shirt sleeve up a little, displaying a dizzyingly gorgeous stretch of muscular arm, lightly furred with golden blonde hairs. “There’s a gym I frequent, only a couple of blocks from here. I usually go in every day before work, during the week. They have a pool, too, and a steam room. It’s pretty nice.”

“Do you think they’d let me in?” I asked. Lifting weights sounded less fun than seeing Ed in gym trunks, but I’d do what I had to.

He slapped me on the shoulder. “Sure they would, I’m allowed to bring in a guest! Say…” he glanced at the clock over the stove, “It’s too early to fix dinner, let’s walk over there now.”

I fished some shorts and a tee shirt out of my stuff and Ed packed them, along with his, in the small duffel he usually carried. “Did you bring a jock?” he inquired, prompting me to stare at his crotch involuntarily. I looked away quickly and shook my head.

“Well, I have an extra,” he stared at my crotch then and I did my best not to blush – or anything else. “Looks like we’re about the same size,” he said. I wondered. That was one of the things on my list to find out.

The gym was close by, just another doorway on the busy street, but fully furnished with everything Ed had promised. We weren’t the only ones undressing in the locker room, and Ed turned his back while changing from slacks and boxers to jock and shorts. I couldn’t help but notice that he did have a great set of glutes, though. The borrowed jock fit me OK, but knowing it was his made it a little too stimulating for total comfort. There were a few other guys there who were worth a glance, but somehow Ed claimed most of my attention without even trying. In a tee shirt and shorts, he was a knockout.

“You must spend some time in gyms yourself,” he stated, catching me off-guard and bent over tying my sneaker.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Some. But I’ve always done a lot of outdoor work, especially when I was growing up. I think that gave me a head start.”

He grabbed my arm, pulling me over to the row of sinks and the mirrors above them. “Look at us.” He punched my shoulder lightly. “No ninety-eight pound weaklings here. We could give Charles Atlas a run for his money.” I smoothed my short black hair a little. I guessed I looked alright, but I was never sure. He smiled at our reflections and I smiled at him. Then he turned and headed out toward the weight room. “Let’s do some lifting!”

He insisted on spotting for me first, but I said I was tired after only a few reps. Then it was his turn and he lay down on the bench and I got to watch those gorgeous muscles at work. To avoid drooling in an imbecilic fashion, I thought I’d better make some conversation.

“What kind of work were you planning on ‘getting ahead’ of today?”

He brought the 250 pound weight to his chest and pressed it back up. “I sell insurance.” He let out a laugh. “I can’t believe I haven’t tried to sell you a policy yet.”

I smiled. “I don’t have much worth insuring.” That was certainly the truth.

“Well, everyone needs life insurance, and… “ He stopped and I helped him put the bar back in its cradle. He sat up, wiping sweat off his face with a rag.

“You know, the truth is I don’t really want to ‘get ahead’ in that job, Sam. In fact, I don’t want to spend my life selling insurance.” He looked at me, intent now. “Do you know what I want to do?” I shook my head.

“I want to go back to school and become an architect – design the buildings that other people sell insurance in! That’s what I really want.” His eyes were bright.

I smiled. “Then that’s what you should do.” I always kind of envied people with a calling, never having had one of my own. My ambitions were simple.

“I know I should.” He lay back down and took a fresh grip on the bar. “I had it all set up to go when I met Peggy. But she thought it was a dumb idea to use my savings on some pie-in-the-sky notion when I already had a good job.” He forced the bar above his head and I steadied it, fearing he might lose control of the bar along with his emotions. “So I let her talk me out of it, and spent some of the money on her, instead. What an idiot I was.” He brought the bar back to the cradle and just lay there, his mind obviously far away.

“C’mon,” I said. “Let’s get a shower and get out of here. I’m hungry.”

He smiled up at me. “OK.”

Even the showers didn’t give me much of a look at Ed’s potential. I’d learned, in many embarrassing ways over the years, not to be obvious in that kind of situation. Sure, all guys looked, and that was fine if you thought like all the other guys. But a normal guy’s body wouldn’t give itself away like mine would. I kept my eyes on the ceiling and my thoughts on baseball scores.

Ed surprised me while we were getting dressed. “Sam, what do you want out of life?” he asked. I tried to process the question, but my brain was having none of it.

“I guess I’m in a place right now where I can’t answer that question, Ed. I guess I don’t know what I want.” There was nothing I could talk about, anyway.

I was kind of sorry he’d asked. I hated not having a goal or even any definite plans for the future. I hated feeling adrift and alone.

“What do you want out of life, Ed?” I asked, suddenly interested in hearing his answer.

“Oh, I don’t know either, really. I guess the same as any man – a job I like, a place to call my own and, someday, someone to share it all.” I watched him knot his tie. Yeah, those were goals I could identify with.

Dinner was a success. Southern fried chicken was one of my specialties, and with mashed potatoes and fresh peas it was a perfect meal, if I do say so. Judging by the amount he ate, Ed seemed to agree.

“If you keep doing the cooking, I’m going to get fat.” he commented, patting his flat belly.

“Nah,” I laughed, pleased. “You’ll just have to spend more time at the gym.” We washed up together, chatting about this and that, comfortable as old friends.

When we were finished, we adjourned to the living room and Ed brought out a bottle and mixed us each a rum and Coke. A refill followed as we sat in the living room, me on the sofa and him in a recliner, watching some comedy show on his good-sized television set and then switching over to quiet music from the radio. I didn’t usually drink much and, after a while, I was feeling pretty good. I didn’t even realize I was singing along with Johnny Ray’s hit song, “Cry”.

“If your sweetheart sends a letter of good-bye, it’s no secret, you’ll feel better if you cry…”

“That’s nice,” Ed said quietly, when the song was over. “You have a good voice, Sam.”

“Thanks,” I said, embarrassed. “I like to sing – sometimes I’ve even gotten paid to do it.”

He nodded. “I believe that. He switched the radio off. “Sing something else.”

My mind whirled, finally settling on “Cold, Cold Heart,” usually sung by Hank Williams. Ed joined me on the last chorus:

“Why can’t I ease your doubtful mind, and melt your cold, cold heart?”

He sang a pretty good, if untrained, baritone. That’s my usual range so we blended well together. He smiled and so did I.

I was feeling really at ease. Maybe it was the drinks, but I think it was more Ed’s acceptance of me and seeming pleasure in my company. I took off my tie and went over to hang it on the spare room’s doorknob. Then, feeling suddenly brave, I walked over to Ed and loosened his tie, unbuttoning that first, tight button on his collar as he helpfully raised his chin. He held still for it all, and flexed his neck gratefully afterwards.

“You’re right, Sam. It’s too early for bed, but we should get more comfortable. I’m going to get out of these clothes, put on a robe. I have an extra if you don’t have one. Then I’ll fix us another drink.”

Ed’s extra robe fit me well enough. As he’d observed, we were about the same size – so far. It was great to see more of his skin again and I tried to imagine what he’d left on under the knee-length robe. Maybe those blue striped boxers he’d been wearing at the gym?

I returned to my spot on the couch and he looked me over a little when he brought the fresh drink.

“Your chest is as smooth as a girl’s.”

I looked down, parting the edges of the robe a bit more, so he could see better, if he wanted to. “Yeah, never had much body hair.”

He scrubbed a hand over the vee of chest visible above the belt of his bathrobe. “I guess I have enough for both of us.” He laughed. His chest held a moderate amount of golden curls. I licked my lips as he sat down on the other end of the couch, only a couple of feet away.

“Looks the way a man’s chest should,” I ventured. He took a long drink from the tall glass.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve always kind of admired a smooth chest. Actually thought about shaving mine.”

“Don’t do that!” I said, and then tried belatedly for casual. ‘Not before I have a chance to run my fingers through those curls,’ I added, silently, to myself. The unaccustomed drinking, combined with sitting so close to an attractive, desirable man, was having a definite effect on me. I thought I’d see if I could get Ed’s mind running on the same track.

“So,” I began. “Did Peggy like men with hairy chests?”

He rolled his eyes. “She said I reminded her of an ape. Said her other boyfriends had nice, smooth chests… like yours.” He gestured with his glass. “See why I wanted to shave mine?”

I was beginning to think that Peggy had no taste at all.

“Well, she must have liked something about you if you slept together.”

He looked doubtful. “I guess so…”

“What kind of things did you do in bed?” I hoped I wasn’t pushing too much, but…

He got a far away look, and then he smiled, kind of wistful. “Oh, we did pretty much everything, I guess. At first she was pretty willing.”

“Like what?” I pressed.

“The usual, you know, missionary position.” He glanced at me and I nodded. Then he smiled a little. “At first she was even willing to give me head, sometimes. I told her how much I liked it, but after I made the mistake of coming in her mouth, she wouldn’t do it again.” He reached down and adjusted himself a little, giving me the tiniest glimpse of blue boxers.

I licked my lips. So Peggy didn’t like the taste of cum. I did.

Just thinking about tasting Ed’s cum was rapidly making me go from half to fully hard. It looked to me like Ed was experiencing a similar development.

“So,” I continued, my voice a bit hoarse now. “You like oral sex.”

He looked over at me. “Yeah, a lot. Don’t you?”

I smiled. That and a nod were the best I could do right then.

He closed his eyes, set his empty glass on the end table, and lay his head on the back of the sofa. I was able to get a better look at his crotch. The developing bulge was very promising.

“I suppose you’ve had a lot of sex partners,” I ventured. “A good looking guy like you.”

He didn’t open his eyes, but his hand caressed the front of his robe, moving down toward his lap. “A pretty fair number, I guess, enough that I miss it when I don’t have anyone to be with. Jerking off just isn’t the same.” The boxers were in full view now, as he rubbed the hard ridge under the flimsy cloth. My breathing picked up.

I had to ask him. “Uh… before you got into girls… you ever fool around with a guy?”

He opened his eyes and looked over at me, then leaned back again, no big deal. “Sure. My brother and I used to jerk off together.” He thought about that a while, the memories playing over his face.

“We even got into sucking each other off.” He laughed. “Maybe that’s how I learned to like oral sex so much.”

That story, and the fact that he’d told me about it, raised my hopes considerably. He was rubbing himself more vigorously now, the occasional little ‘mmm’ sound escaping his lips. I gave in and touched myself. I’d been hard and dripping for a while and it felt so good.

Ed looked over, his attention on my lap. “Uh, Sam, do you want to…uh…?”

I sighed. “Yeah, it’s been a long time for me, I really need it.” That was the gospel truth.

“Been a long time for me, too,” he agreed. “Let’s do it.”

I froze as I watched him take out his cock. It was uncut and had to be at least 7 inches. My mouth watered.

I could see him watching me as I reached in for my prick, bringing out my own 7 inches plus. We really were about the same size.

We each stared at the other’s equipment for a minute, slowly stroking, then he lay his head back again and started working his cock a little faster. I couldn’t wait any longer.

“Can I help you out with that?” I asked softly.

“You mean, you want to touch my…?” he whispered, looking at me only from the corner of one eye. I nodded.

“OK,” he breathed, after a moment.

I scooted closer until our thighs were pressed together. He swallowed hard and took his hand off his tool. I replaced it with mine. He was hot velvet over steel, thick and wet and already throbbing in my palm. “Oooohhhh….” he sighed.

I realized I’d been holding my breath and let it go as I gripped his prick with fingers and thumb, lightly moving the skin down to uncover the wet purple head and then sliding it back up, keeping the movements smooth and slow.

He’d said he liked blow jobs best and I was just contemplating getting to my knees between his spread thighs when he spoke, his voice quiet.

“May I touch yours?” he asked, a little breathless.

I was amazed. Lots of regular guys would let you touch them, let you blow them too, but very few wanted to touch you back. I’d almost forgotten about my own dick, but now fresh excitement surged through me.

“Please,” I whispered.

We turned, me not letting go of his prick, until we were sitting, almost facing each other, on the couch. He reached over, taking my tool in his strong, calloused grasp and moved the skin lightly back and forth. I sighed. It felt fantastic. He used his other hand to grab a couple of cloth napkins from the end table. “I think we might need these.” He said. At that point, I certainly hoped so.

With my other hand I touched his chest, combing through those soft curls to find and squeeze a tender, erect nipple between my thumb and forefinger. He drew in a sharp breath. I wondered if any woman had ever done that to him. I found and pinched his other nipple, drawing a moan from his lips this time. He put a hand on my back, pulling us closer.

I knew I couldn’t last long with his pulsing prick in my hand and the warmth of our bodies urging each other on. His hand was hot on my cock, stroking faster now. My heart threatened to pound its way out of my chest.

“Ed,” I moaned, “I can’t hold it, I’m going to come any second.” I could feel my balls tightening with the impending explosion.

“Go for it,” he replied, voice breaking, stroking me even faster, “I’m right there with you.”

A deep pounding started low in my belly and then cum spurted hard to hit my chin, wringing an incoherent cry from my throat. I squeezed his prick tighter and he joined me, crying ‘God, oh, God’, over and over while we both sprayed our bellies and chests with cream that blended together like warm white rain between us. It seemed to go on for a long time.

I came back to myself, forehead leaning against Ed’s, both of us breathing like steam engines, and smiling like idiots.

He was the first to find words. “I’ve never come that hard before in my life!”

I smiled. I’d certainly enjoyed the experience wholeheartedly and wasn’t about to clutter it with value judgments. I’d always found that even great sex was just sex to regular guys. I didn’t want to imply that it meant anything more to me.

“Oh, you probably have and just don’t remember,” I said lazily, giving his tender prick one last stroke. I picked up a napkin and rubbed at his chest. “They’re all good, right?”

“No.” He turned my face to his with a gentle finger. “This was the best… ever. Thank you.” He stared into my eyes and I couldn’t turn away. His eyes were golden brown.

After a few seconds, or a couple of hours, he said, “May I kiss you?”

I was shocked. I hadn’t expected him to want to kiss me, let alone ask. “Please,” I said again, very softly.

It started out tentative on his part, but soon he began exploring my mouth with his tongue and I couldn’t resist returning the favor. Soon our arms had pressed us as close as was possible, sticky cum gluing his furry chest to my smooth one. I realized that he was hard again or, like me, had never really gone soft.

Suddenly he let go, stood up and took my hand, pulling me to my feet. “Let’s go into the bedroom,” he said, voice ragged. I’d never heard a better suggestion.

We lay there afterwards, relaxed, almost dozing, his cock still hard enough to stay inside me. I smiled. It felt wonderful, as though it belonged there.

He spoke, so quietly this time that I could scarcely hear him. “You’ve done this before.” It wasn’t a question.

I stiffened a little. “Yeah,” I admitted, then, “Do you mind?”

He shook his head against my hair. “No… I think I’m glad.” His arm stayed tight around me, fingers playing with a nipple. I just kept quiet and breathed, wondering what he’d say next.

Finally he asked, “Your last lover… a man?”

I nodded. “Uh, huh.” I was hopeful, but scared, and I didn’t want to lie.

“Do you like it… being this way, I mean?” He sounded thoughtful.

“It’s who I am,” I stated, feeling a strange kind of pride.

He was silent for a while, then, “I like who you are, Sam. And it’s funny, but I like who I am better when we’re together.”

He turned me over, losing our physical connection, but gaining us another one, eye to eye. Again I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to.

“Will you stay with me, Sam? Not just for tonight but, live with me - so we can keep doing this, keep being together?”

It sounded so good to me. ‘Yes’ was on the tip of my tongue, but I had to make sure that he knew what he was saying, what he was asking. Geez, I hated being the ‘sensible’ one.

“Eddie, you really needed someone tonight. I did too. That doesn’t mean you’ll feel the same about me tomorrow.” I glanced at the alarm clock. Too late, it was already tomorrow. “I mean, in the light of day.”

I looked away from him, knowing how much it was going to hurt me if he changed his mind now. I had only known him for a day, but somehow he’d become important to me. I’d always fallen in love too quickly, when I found the right man.

“Are you kidding?” He laughed, then changed his tone of voice after seeing what had to be plain on my face. He touched my cheek with one finger, holding my eyes with his warm brown ones.

“Sam, I’ve just had the best sex of my life tonight, preceded by the most fun day of my life… ever.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “I’d be crazy not to want this to go on.” His brow wrinkled in thought. “In fact…Sam, I think I love you.”

I felt a tiny bit of the glacier I’d been carrying around in my heart since Ken died, begin to melt away.

“Eddie,” I looked into those sweet, still innocent brown eyes, thinking of all the changes that could happen in his life because of our relationship. “It’s different, you know, being with a man instead of a woman,” I said carefully.

He pulled me tight to his chest and kissed me until I couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t I know it,” he said, a little breathless himself. “It’s a lot better.” Then we stopped all that silly talking and went back to kissing.

Eddie had been asleep for a while, breathing slowly and deeply beside me, one arm draped warmly over my chest, his face against my neck. I was relaxed and tired, but too fired with joy to sleep. The next step would be to find a job, I supposed, whether it was selling insurance, waiting tables, singing, or what have you. But the kind of work didn’t matter. I loved and was loved in return. Eddie and I had found each other and I was living again.

I sighed. Thank God.
 

Thanks to Rock Hunter for his excellent editing.

Posted: 11/20/09